


Monster Cock

by cmsprite79



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Dean, Deep Throating, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, First Time Blow Jobs, Gags, M/M, Rope Bondage, Top Sam, sub space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4705124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmsprite79/pseuds/cmsprite79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is faced with an unrelenting challenge. It just happens to be his brother's Sasquatch-sized cock!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monster Cock

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first post to AO3 so please be gentle with the comments. I scare easily! Thanks! Enjoy! (I know I did.)

It’s big. Dauntingly big. And hot, thick, long, and Dean has no choice because it’s in his mouth, pushing to the back of his throat past the spider gag. He whimpers, head held still, vision blocked by padded leather. He can’t retreat. All he can do is accept and swallow. A huge hand strokes gently over his head, through his short hair, and he lets out an involuntary sigh as the heavy meat of it fills his entire mouth, forcing its way over his tongue, salty and bitter with precome.  


“That’s it, Dee, good boy,” Dean hears as though from a distance or underwater. He gags and fights for air as it settles in the depth of his throat, stretching the muscles obscenely. “Easy. Breathe through your nose,” the voice suggests and Dean tries. His throat contracts around it and he hears the other make a sharp indrawn breath before shoving more of it even deeper. Dean trembles. It just keeps going! An eternity passes before Dean’s nose is pressed against a wiry nest of hair and he starts to really struggle. He can’t breathe! His throat tries to eject the object lodged in it but the large hand in his hair grips tight and keeps him still. He moans, terrified, and thrashes against the ropes holding the rest of his body tight. “Fuck! Dean, that’s so fucking good!” Dean can barely hear past the intense ringing in his ears until it pulls back half way and he can breathe again. Drool streams from the side of his mouth past the gag. He can only swallow the wetness at the very back of his mouth, not the rest of his spit. He manages one, two heaving breaths, and then it slides back down his throat with one hearty thrust. Dean feels more than hears the moan of sheer pleasure from the one holding his head still, a deep vibration against his nose planted again in the lush garden at the base of it. Dean’s throat contracts and he whimpers again, or at least he would if his airway wasn’t completely blocked. Just before panic sets in again, it pulls back, leaving him gasping and dribbling around the gag.  


Dean has only seconds before the grip in his hair tightens and the huge battering ram of flesh invades his throat again. The other sets a punishing rhythm. Dean does his best to breathe between thrusts. It isn’t easy because, just as he thinks he has the pattern down, it changes, becoming erratic and sloppy. Speaking of sloppy, Dean and the floor below him are drenched in saliva, wet ropes of it dancing from his chin as the enormous cock pounds mercilessly into his mouth. And somehow, unbelievably, Dean’s cock is achingly, traitorously hard through the entire process. The other groans loudly and stiffens against Dean’s face, thrusting and holding his tool as deep as it will go inside Dean’s battered throat. It twitches there, spasm after spasm jetting thick wads of come down Dean’s esophagus. Dean reflexively swallows but he doesn’t need to. The seed’s planted in him automatically, cock so far in that Dean swears it reaches the top of his stomach, which is, of course, physically impossible.  


Just as Dean begins to feel light headed from oxygen deprivation, he feels a pat on his head and the monster cock begins to back away. “Such a good hole, Dee, so good for me.” The voice rumbles above him. Dean feels every last centimeter of softening, but no less huge, penis pulling out of the back of his throat. He gags a little, ejecting the mushroomy head onto his tongue, which curls into the slit a bit on its way out past the spider. He tastes just a modicum of bitterness again and it tastes like heaven.  


Dean heaves a huge breath, chest rising and falling, limbs barely feeling the constricting ropes. The hand stays on his head, comforting. “So proud of you,” continues the voice. The gentle hand moves down to cup the back of his head and unhitch the gag. Dean lets out a groan as his sore jaw is released. “Be right back, Dee, hold on.” Dean floats. Barely feels the space between the other leaving and returning. A warm, damp washcloth wipes away the spit from Dean’s mouth and chin. The other kneels before him and pulls him into an embrace. Kisses, hot and sweet and toothy, rain along his aching jaw and down his sweaty, flushed neck. The arms around him direct hands down his still shuddering back, over his clenching buttocks, to his trembling thighs and up again in broad, sweeping motions meant to soothe. And they do, after a while. Dean allows his body to go slack against the ropes, against the broad, firm chest in front of him, the one that rumbles and hums little words of pleasure and praise. “Love you so much, Dee.” Dean can’t reply, can’t find the words. He floats.  


The large hands eventually remove the blindfold, but Dean keeps his eyes shut, doesn’t want to face reality yet. A pair of soft lips press gently against his closed lids, then flutter down his face to prod sweetly at his half-open mouth. He lets them in, lets in a hot, wet tongue, enjoying the feel of something smaller, something less brutal, invading his mouth. He lets out a little whine of need and hears a replying chuckle. The hands hold both sides of his face up. He feels the scratch of stubble as the other rubs hard chin against his jaw and cheek. Then the face backs away but not the hands. Thumbs pass lightly over the ridge of his cheekbones and the voice belonging to the hands says, “Dean,” very softly but firmly. Dean’s eyelids flutter open but his vision isn’t focused yet. One hand taps his cheek a bit and tilts his head up.  


“Un?” Dean tries to speak but the other only hushes him. Dean’s eyes fixate on the brilliant smile on the face in front of him. He can’t help the curl of one side of his own lips. “S’good, S’mmy?” He slurs between swollen lips, throat a burning ache.  


“You tell me,” says Sammy and lightly touches Dean’s over-sensitive, softened cock. Dean gasps and looks down at himself. His stomach, chest, and part of the floor between his knees are decorated with come-splatter. He heaves a ragged breath and starts to laugh. Sammy pulls him into a great big hug and kisses him on the ear, neck, shoulder, mouth. “You back with me now?” Sammy asks, looking into his brother’s eyes. Dean nods. “Good.” Sammy moves and begins slowly untying the ropes binding Dean’s arms, legs, and ankles. It takes a while, getting all the ropes off. Sammy’s very good at tying knots, making coils that restrain and cradle but don’t cut off circulation. He catches Dean as the last of the ropes come undone and shoulders him up and onto the bed. Dean lets out a satisfied sigh and reaches for Sammy with one still shaking arm.  


“Don’t worry, not going anywhere.” Sammy says quietly and crawls up the bed so he can spoon behind his brother. Their fingers link together over Dean’s abs, avoiding the sticky-slick of drying come, and Sammy’s nose and mouth find a comfortable resting spot in the crook of Dean’s shoulder. Sam’s thumb rubs tiny circles over Dean’s hand where they’re joined. “Didn’t think you’d fight so hard against the gag. Is your jaw ok?” He asks.  


“Mm. S’sore,” says Dean, his throat clicking as he swallows. Sam kisses the hinge of Dean’s jaw and Dean’s eyes close with a contented smile.  


“Bet your throat’s sore too, huh?” Dean just nods. Sam chuckles. “Good thing I laid in a supply of popsicles.” Dean groans. Nothing would feel better right now than a cool treat like that. Sam shifts and makes to get off the bed to fetch one but Dean makes a sound of protest and keeps hold on Sam’s hand. “What?” He asks.  


“Not…” Dean has to clear his throat before continuing. “Not yet. Stay.”  


“Ok. Staying.” Sammy replies with a humoring lilt to his voice and settles back down behind Dean.  


Dean lets out a satisfied hum. Sammy’s thumb resumes its circling against Dean’s hand. After a while, Sam whispers into Dean’s ear, “Know what else we could do with popsicles?” And Dean is pushing Sam off the bed in an instant, directing him to “Go. Popsicle. Now!” Sammy laughs all the way to the bunker’s kitchen. Dean lies back on the bed and stretches, cock already half-hard against his thigh, thinking of all the wonderful ways Sammy will tease him with the cool, fruity length of icy treat. Sometimes, sucking monster cock has its own rewards.


End file.
